PEMBROKE.
All murders past do stand excus’d in this;
And this, so sole and so unmatchable,
Shall give a holiness, a purity,
To the yet unbegotten sin of times;
And prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest,
Exampled by this heinous spectacle.
BASTARD.
It is a damned and a bloody work;
The graceless action of a heavy hand,—
If that it be the work of any hand.
SALISBURY.
If that it be the work of any hand?—
We had a kind of light what would ensue.
It is the shameful work of Hubert’s hand;
The practice and the purpose of the king:—
From whose obedience I forbid my soul,
Kneeling before this ruin of sweet life,
And breathing to his breathless excellence
The incense of a vow, a holy vow,
Never to taste the pleasures of the world,
Never to be infected with delight,
Nor conversant with ease and idleness,
Till I have set a glory to this hand,
By giving it the worship of revenge.
PEMBROKE. and BIGOT.
Our souls religiously confirm thy words.
[Enter HUBERT.]
HUBERT.
Lords, I am hot with haste in seeking you:
Arthur doth live; the king hath sent for you.
SALISBURY.
O, he is bold, and blushes not at death:—
Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone!
HUBERT.
I am no villain.
SALISBURY.
Must I rob the law?
[Drawing his sword.]
BASTARD.
Your sword is bright, sir; put it up again.
SALISBURY.
Not till I sheathe it in a murderer’s skin.
HUBERT.
Stand back, Lord Salisbury,—stand back, I say;
By heaven, I think my sword’s as sharp as yours:
I would not have you, lord, forget yourself,
Nor tempt the danger of my true defence;
Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget
Your worth, your greatness, and nobility.
BIGOT.
Out, dunghill! dar’st thou brave a nobleman?
HUBERT.
Not for my life: but yet I dare defend
My innocent life against an emperor.
SALISBURY.
Thou art a murderer.
HUBERT.
Do not prove me so;
Yet I am none: whose tongue soe’er speaks false,
Not truly speaks; who speaks not truly, lies.
PEMBROKE.
Cut him to pieces.
BASTARD.
Keep the peace, I say.
SALISBURY.
Stand by, or I shall gall you, Falconbridge.
BASTARD.
Thou wert better gall the devil, Salisbury:
If thou but frown on me, or stir thy foot,
Or teach thy hasty spleen to do me shame,
I’ll strike thee dead. Put up thy sword betime:
Or I’ll so maul you and your toasting-iron
That you shall think the devil is come from hell.
BIGOT.
What wilt thou do, renowned Falconbridge?
Second a villain and a murderer?
HUBERT.
Lord Bigot, I am none.
BIGOT.
Who kill’d this prince?
HUBERT.
‘Tis not an hour since I left him well:
I honour’d him, I lov’d him, and will weep
My date of life out for his sweet life’s loss.
SALISBURY.
Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes,
For villainy is not without such rheum;
And he, long traded in it, makes it seem
Like rivers of remorse and innocency.
Away with me, all you whose souls abhor
Th’ uncleanly savours of a slaughterhouse;
For I am stifled with this smell of sin.
BIGOT.
Away toward Bury, to the Dauphin there!
PEMBROKE.
There tell the king he may inquire us out.
[Exeunt LORDS.]
BASTARD.
Here’s a good world!—Knew you of this fair work?
Beyond the infinite and boundless reach
Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death,
Art thou damn’d, Hubert.
HUBERT.
Do but hear me, sir.
BASTARD.
Ha! I’ll tell thee what;
Thou’rt damn’d as black—nay, nothing is so black;
Thou art more deep damn’d than Prince Lucifer:
There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell
As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this child.
HUBERT.
Upon my soul,—
BASTARD.
If thou didst but consent
To this most cruel act, do but despair;
And if thou want’st a cord, the smallest thread
That ever spider twisted from her womb
Will serve to strangle thee; a rush will be a beam
To hang thee on; or wouldst thou drown thyself,
Put but a little water in a spoon
And it shall be as all the ocean,
Enough to stifle such a villain up.
I do suspect thee very grievously.
HUBERT.
If I in act, consent, or sin of thought,
Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath
Which was embounded in this beauteous clay,
Let hell want pains enough to torture me!
I left him well.
BASTARD.
Go, bear him in thine arms.—
I am amaz’d,